His Excuse for Loving
by fuzzydream
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Anna is eager to surprise her secret admirer. Possibly set in Series 4.


**A/N:** I got asked to write a Valentine's Day story and here it is. Obviously I have no idea what will happen in Series 4 and this is very light, very fluffy and hopefully sexy towards the end. Thanks so much for Terrie for editing and helping me out with cute 20s nightgowns and TeamHousemaid for giving me some ideas. :) Thanks for reading! Would love to know what you think of it - reviews are very much appreciated!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Downton Abbey!

* * *

_His Excuse For Loving_ by fuzzydream

* * *

A week before Valentine's Day, they started.

They were cards, and sometimes a single rose. A verse of poetry, or a quote from a book she particularly liked. Waiting for her in the empty servants' hall or by the crates of the courtyard; twice in front of Lady Mary's bedroom's door, and once inside her coat pocket, found just as she put it on to go back home after a day of work. They were careful, always written in the same neat, familiar handwriting, and always addressed to her. It surprised her at first, and when she questioned her husband, John merely smiled sheepishly, blushed, and said he had no idea what she was talking about. Two could play at this game.

Anna couldn't contain the silly smiles on her face every time she found a new "gift"; she caught him staring more than once and occasionally he would ask what was wrong, to which she would casually respond that everything was absolutely fine. Their days were tiring and their nights were far too short – she had taken to going home earlier whenever she could and would always tell John to do the same, but he never did. They spent little time together as it was, and she felt guilty enough for being half-asleep by the time he came home.

If anything, the little romantic notes were serving to prove to her that the mourning times were far behind them, slowly, still in the shadows but that would remain for a long time. They were happy, of course, as they had been ever since John was released from prison. Married life suited them, as Anna decided a few weeks after they were permanently settled in their cottage. Despite the little time together, despite work and their duties, they made the most of it all. Still, when everyone suffered the shock that was Mr Crawley's death, everything changed; if their time together had been short before, it became even shorter. Anna liked to think she was more to Lady Mary than even a confidant, and her duties became even more important now, to be sure she was comfortable – what with Master George, too. It had all been very hectic, and John had been understanding, though not entirely happy with it all – and neither was she.

Now, however, things seemed to be returning back to normal. She could enjoy going home earlier a couple of nights a week, and she could count on spending them with her husband. And despite his sweet reluctance and apparent disinterest in admitting he was, indeed, her secret admirer, she couldn't help but think the situation was even more thrilling. Their conversations were often playful and silly, and she liked it that way – she liked to feel free to laugh and smile, as she hadn't had much reason to smile in the past. She had plenty now.

Still, Anna hoped that by February 14th he would come out as her admirer, finally, as it only to be the sole reason for all the roses and all the notes. They didn't usually exchanged any gifts though she hoped some quality time with him and possibly flowers – or chocolate, as he knew she was very, very much fond of it. As it was, now, on the morning of Valentine's Day, she was currently being awoken by a series of kisses, and not even the mild disapproving grunt that escaped her from being taken from dreamland stopped him. A smile crept into her face soon – she had come to love early morning if they started like this. Married life did change her.

"John, I really hope we have time for this," she said softly, opening her eyes and feeling his lips on her collarbone.

"Why, Mrs Bates. I always finish what I start," he said, pulling away and taking his time watching her. she blinked heavily, but smiled all the same – she was used to his adoration in the mornings and she wasn't one to complain. "Happy Valentine's Day, love."

She left out a soft laugh and cupped his cheek lovingly. His hands were on her waist and he had already maneuvered himself almost over her. She loved when days started like this – no matter if they/there weren't any special occasion.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she whispered back, almost lazily, and he kissed the back of her hand softly. "This is a good thing to wake up to."

A boyish grin appeared on his face. She loved it. "Let's work in making it even better, then."

"I have absolutely nothing against that," Anna told him sheepishly, then narrowed her eyes. "Don't you have anything to tell me today?"

He chose that moment to capture her lips in a slow kiss that left her undone after just the slightest touch; John had that power over her. She moved her hands to his neck in order to pull him close to her, and coherent thoughts were slowly starting to hide in the back of her mind when he finally pulled away. The grin was still there. His hands were currently working their way up her bare legs. She could hardly remember what his next words were about.

"I have nothing to tell you," he said huskily, "_yet_."

She succumbed to his charms quite soon and decided to leave the questions for later on.

* * *

Anna walked down the stairs carefully, a dress in her hands. She always did her best to be able to have a cup of tea with Mr Bates before they were needed again; the day was quite busy, as they had visitors in the house, and she had barely been able to catch a glimpse of her husband after luncheon – with the exception of the small note she found waiting for her on her seat next to him then. She had read the verses by Robert Frost with a somewhat watery smile, the words he wrote even more touching than the verses; they were well known enough, but it was quite obvious by his note that he did not care if he had been discovered. _And I thank the heavens every day that you chose that road, Anna¹_. Simple words, short sentence, but so many memories flowered from there – some that she was not very fond of, but looking back now she would still do it all over again.

She found him in his usual seat, their eyes meeting almost as soon as she entered the room, and she noticed some servants were already going back to their duties. She sat down by his side anyway, Lady Mary's dress in a bundle on her lap and put her button box on the table, thanking Ivy for the tea. She noticed John was reading Robert Frost.

"I thought you were reading a newer book," Anna commented softly, loud enough for him to hear but low enough so no one would meddle into their conversation. Two housemaids left the hall.

John smiled and turned his head slightly. "I was in the mood for some Frost today."

She arched her eyebrows. "And what a coincidence it is. I read a lovely verse of his just earlier on."

"Did you, now?" he asked, closing the book and looking at her appreciatively. She took a sip of her tea and nodded.

"Indeed I did. My lovely admirer sent me one," she commented, arching her eyebrows. A giggle escaped her. "He seems quite poetic."

"Should I be worried?" he asked her with a smile.

"I don't know, Mr Bates. Should you?"

She could tell he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. They were now currently alone with Mr Carson, Miss Baxter and Thomas. They didn't seem to be paying much attention to them.

"Perhaps I shouldn't meddle into his plans, after all," John said after a moment's hesitation.

Anna looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Perhaps. If he has any plans, that is."

He leaned his elbows on the table and she met his gaze again. She felt herself flutter as he looked at her almost hungrily. Her breath hitched and she put her cup down without taking a sip this one time. She had been hoping he'd admit everything, but doubted he would do it now; she suspected he was playing with her as much as she was playing with him. She had absolutely no reason to complain.

"What makes you think he doesn't?" his voice was horse. She eyed everyone in the table for a moment. Mr Carson was standing up.

"I don't know, Mr Bates," she leaned closer, but not much. She lowered her voice and smiled. "He might not know what I like or need…"

He gulped silently but she could tell he was having trouble keeping the serene expression on his face.

"Oh, Mrs Bates, I'm quite sure he knows exactly what you need," John told her quietly, and she was about to reply when she heard Thomas's displeased voice.

"Can the lovebirds remember there are other people in the room?"

John broke her gaze first, and shot Thomas a cold look before turning his gaze back to her, his lines softer now. They exchanged a smile and Anna leaned on the back of the chair, far from him again. She took a sip of her tea and looked up questioningly when her husband stood up, checking his pocket watch with a frown on his face.

"Where are you going?" Anna asked him quietly, mindful of Thomas's and Miss Baxter's eyes on them. "I was hoping you'd keep me company while I mended this dress."

"I'm sorry. I must go to Ripon," he explained, "for His Lordship. I won't be long."

She smiled. "I should hope so. I'll see you later."

"You most definitely will," he winked at her, almost imperceptibly, and left without another word. She looked at him as he left, admiring his figure, and let out a sigh when he was gone; she had hoped they'd be able to spend some more time together today. Of course, that was more wishful thinking than hope, really. Their work was indeed so time-consuming.

"Trouble in paradise?" Thomas's voice broke her out of yet another sigh, and she smiled triumphantly at him after a moment's hesitation.

"On the contrary, Mr Barrow," she replied with a happy tone. "On the contrary."

* * *

It was late when she got to the cottage, though earlier than she initially thought it would be. The party had turned out to be a short affair for Lady Mary, who hadn't wanted to spend any more time than necessary there. Anna understood this and couldn't blame her, though it worried her that her mistress seemed quite eager to just go to bed, not even bothering to talk much to Anna. She was grateful, however, for the early evening, even if she wasn't sure how long it would be until John came home. She had barely seen him after tea – even at dinner he seemed to be in a hurry. This was a good thing, however; she had a surprise herself and it would be much better if John came home later for it.

There was a small bouquet of wild flowers by the front door and it made Anna rather teary as it resembled her little wedding bouquet from long ago – she wasn't sure if he had done it on purpose but knowing John he probably did. The bouquet was being held together by one of her ribbons and she sighed with a smile as she opened the door. A note was attached to the ribbon.

_Of whose beauty it was sung,_

_She shall make the old man young,_

_Keep the middle age at stay,_

_And let nothing hide decay,_

_Till she be the reason why_

_All the world for love may die.²_

Her heart did a little leap as she read these words in the soft light of the small hall of their cottage, and she let out a warm laugh at this – John was certainly managing to make her emotional. Everything was quiet in the cottage and she took off her coat and hat before making her way upstairs; she would normally prepare some tea and wait for John but something else needed her attention. She frowned, however, when she got to the landing and saw some light coming from their bedroom. She knew John couldn't be there, so she opened the door very carefully.

A little gasp escaped her when she took in the candles around the room; the impossible man. There weren't many but they were quite enough to light up the bedroom in a somewhat mysterious way. She decided she loved it, despite the fact it might have burned the cottage down since they were not home. She let out an incredulous laugh, thinking that might have been the reason he was in such a hurry earlier in the evening. The smile forever permanent on her face, she decided to take a quick bath.

A while later she stood in front of the mirror, somewhat nervous eyes hovering over her appearance. She had bought the nightgown not long ago and she thought John would like it. It was much shorter than the ones she usually wore – even her most provocative ones – with white lace covering her breasts and the hem of it; the rest of it was made of a light blue satin fabric. She rather liked it. The lace left little to the imagination but she hoped that would only make John like it even more.

She ran her fingers through her hair, which she had opted to let it loose, sighed softly and reached for her robe, tying it firmly around her waist. She took one more look in the mirror and turned to check the clock when the bedroom door creaked softly and she turned around to meet John's gaze. They shared a smile.

"I didn't hear you coming in," she stated. "You know you could have burned the cottage down with all this, don't you?"

Her tone was teasing and he grinned. "I came here after dinner. Not much time before you actually arrived. It was worth trying," he eyed her appreciatively. "New robe?"

He was unbuttoning his cufflinks. Anna nodded. She had bought it to match the nightgown. Of course he would notice. "It is. Do you like it?"

"You look absolutely precious in it," he said smoothly. "Of course I like it."

She smiled and turned to the mirror again, adjusting her hair once more. "I loved the flowers. All of them. But the last ones were my favourites. I know we don't exchange gifts but that was more than I expected."

John walked over to where she was standing, and leaned the cane against the wall just as he stopped walking. "Your secret admirer isn't quite done yet."

Just as he said the words, and moved behind her however, Anna saw a necklace in his hands and he put it on her neck swiftly, the golden chain glistening against the faint candle light in the room. A small, very small locket was attached to it, and she gasped in surprise, her hand reaching out to touch it. John slipped his hands around her waist and she leaned into him, completely taken by surprise.

"Do you like it?"

"John, you didn't have to," she managed to say after a moment. "I didn't get you anything, really."

"I wanted to buy you something," he offered as an explanation. "There is a photograph of us inside the locket too."

She quickly inspected it, smiling as she saw a tiny photograph of the two of them, fitting perfectly inside. A wave of emotion ran through her and she blinked slowly before closing the locket and meeting her husband's gaze.

"It's perfect, thank you," Anna said softly, turning her head slightly and kissing his lips. He had a way of causing her to melt in his arms that she had yet to understand, after all these years. It was far too easy to give into the softness of his tongue and the swift movements of his hands, even if still so innocent, over the layers of her night clothes. After what seemed like an eternity that passed by way too quickly, he pulled away, kissing her neck with wet lips and she couldn't help but stare at them in the mirror, her lips red and slightly swollen and his mussed hair – she didn't quite remember reaching for it in the first place, but it was where her hand rested now. She took a deep breath. "Shall we go to bed, then? My secret admirer?"

He chuckled against her skin and looked at her, kissing her lips softly once more before responding.

"We certainly shall, Mrs Bates," John said, pulling away from her, and she missed his broad warmth against her back immediately. He started to unbutton his shirt. "When did you find out I was your admirer?"

Anna grinned. "After the first flowers."

He took his shirt off and looked at her in mild disappointment. "Really?"

She laughed. "Really."

He pouted slightly, but did not say anything further, as he was occupied taking his pants off. Anna untied her robe slowly - she wasn't sure if it was the anticipation or the cold that made her hesitate but before she had any more time to think about it, John's hands were on her shoulders slipping the robe from her. His surprise made him drop it on the floor, though – Anna had to suppress a giggle. He turned her around.

"Anna, you look… I have no words," he mumbled, "You look gorgeous."

Despite the cold air lingering on her skin, the warmth of his hands on her arms seemed to be quickly spreading through her body.

"Well," she tilted her head ever so slightly, "consider this my gift to you, then."

"And what a fine gift it is," he managed to say before taking her in his arms and meeting her lips for another kiss – this time not so soft, this time not so slow as before, but the sentiment, the love was there – only just more passionate. She slipped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. He moaned into her mouth. She smiled against his; she knew she would have him undone soon. As his hands brushed against her breasts, however, she knew she would be too.

With slow, stumbling steps, they made it to the bed, though Anna wasn't completely sure how. She straddled him, her hands on his chest, and she could feel him responding to her quickly. His hands left her waist and cupped her bottom softly just as she pulled away to breathe. They exchanged a chuckle. She moved again, biting his earlobe, and John's hands were moving up from her legs, though they stopped abruptly as he gathered her nightgown around her hips. A moan escaped him – and she wasn't sure if it was because of her ministrations or because he had now found out about the lack of her undergarments.

"Anna," he breathed, "you will kill me one of these days. And it will be a most happy death."

Anna giggled, her hair tickling his face as she turned to meet his eyes. "Stop with this nonsense. I need you very much alive. As I think you are right now."

"There's no doubt in that, my dear," he said, kissing her lips as his hands worked their magic on her body – she no longer felt cold, or nervous, or tired.

Somehow, it seemed like the whole week had led up to this moment, and in some sense it had; the feel of his hands on her body, his warm breath upon her skin, his tongue against hers – it was too much and too little at the same time. The need to be closer, to be together, was insatiable and yet they managed to control themselves as much as they could; At some point, she untied the ribbon straps on her shoulders to give him better access, and her hands were getting too impatient with his underpants. After a few minutes, they both decided the nightgown had served its purpose and it was thrown unceremoniously onto the floor – to which his underpants decided to keep company just a moment later. Her wedding ring and her new necklace – those were the only items she needed to wear now.

John turned them around, his eyes locked with Anna's and when she guided him into her, both of them groaned in unison as they finally joined. His movements started slowly, and even though they had done this a thousand times before, so many different ways before, it always felt different – it always felt stronger. Their breaths mingled as he moved faster – her moans were getting harder to control now; she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. His hands were still everywhere, so intent in giving her pleasure, that it was quite hard to focus on anything – white, hot, undeniable pleasure, and she had trouble coming back to reality – not that she wanted to. John followed her soon afterwards.

A few minutes later, they lay together, her body almost entirely on top of his, their hearts beating in unison as they cooled down. She shuddered against him and nuzzled his neck as he squeezed her waist and pulled her closer.

"This has been a most pleasant Valentine's Day," she whispered into his skin.

His chuckle vibrated against her own chest. "It certainly has."

She raised her head, reaching her hand to touch his hair lovingly. "What got into you? To do it all?"

His smile was boyish and infinitely adorable. He arched his eyebrows. "I felt like this could be a good excuse to love you."

She pursed her lips in a grin and shook her head. "As if you need an excuse. Silly beggar."

All she could do to take the smug grin off his face was to capture his lips in yet another kiss; despite everything, Valentine's Day was still a very normal day to her – just one more day to love him more.

But she wouldn't change this day for absolutely anything.

* * *

¹ Robert Frost, _The Road Not Taken_

² Ben Jonson_, His Excuse for Loving_


End file.
